Child's Play
by Dani-Ellie03
Summary: While staying at a motel in Massachusetts, Sam and Dean find themselves wrapped up in a mystery of their own. Preseries: Dean is 10, Sam is 6. Chapter nine posted, complete!
1. Prologue

**Title:** Child's Play  
**Summary:** Six-year-old Sam makes friends with a five-year-old girl named Lucy who is more than what she appears.  
**Spoilers:** None. Pre-series.  
**Disclaimer: **Sam, Dean, and John Winchester are mine only in my dreams. They belong to Eric Kripke and the CW.  
**Author's Note:** I'm quite nervous about this one because 1) new fandoms are nervous-making, and 2) it's the first multi-chapter story I've written since 2005. Whitman, MA is a real place and the Willow Motel was a real motel, but as far as I know, none of this ever really happened there. ;) Pre-series, Baby!Winchesters: Dean is 10, Sam is 6. Feedback is my anti-drug!

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The little girl wedged herself into the far corner of the motel room, pushing herself as far back against the wall as she could, and hugged her knees to her chest. She watched with tears in her eyes as the man advanced on her. "I'm sorry," she cried. "I didn't mean to be loud. Please, I didn't mean to!" She dropped her head onto her knees, squeezing her eyes closed as her tears slid down her cheek. 

The man grabbed a hunk of her dark hair and pulled on it, lifting her head so she would look at him. Her hand flew to her scalp as she cried out in pain. "Stop your crying and keep quiet," he hissed at her. He let go of her hair dismissively and crouched down so that he was eye-level with her. "You know what happens when you cry."

The little girl nodded, quickly swallowing back some of her tears. He had hit her earlier for crying; her stinging, red cheek was testament to that.

"Good girl," he said, standing up. "I don't want to hear another peep out of you."

She nodded again, letting out a breath that she wasn't even aware that she had been holding. The man, content that she was sufficiently calm and was going to remain quiet, walked away from her and disappeared around the corner. When she heard the bathroom door close, she dropped her head back down onto her knees, tightened her grip on her legs, and cried silently, her tears soaking into her jeans.

All she wanted was to go home. She had been playing in the playground with a friend when the man came up to her and told her that her mother had been in an accident and that she needed to go with him. Her mother had always warned her not to talk to strangers and to never get in a car with one, but the man promised he was telling her the truth and that her mother was hurt. She knew now that the man had lied to her, that her mother wasn't hurt, and that he had only said that to get her go with him.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been in the motel room with the man; three or four days perhaps. She had tried to keep track of the days by how many times she'd eaten or how many times she'd slept. However, he didn't feed her regularly and when he did, she always got very sleepy afterwards.

The bathroom door opened and the little girl looked up sharply. The man came into view again, and she tensed, wondering if he was going to hit her again. Instead, he turned on the television and sat down on one of the beds. Once she was convinced that he was not going to come after her, the little girl pushed herself up onto her feet. She stood in the corner for a long moment, afraid to move.

At her movement, the man checked his watch and then turned around to face the girl. "You hungry?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, her voice hitching in her throat.

In the time that she had been with the man, she had learned that she should always ask for food. For whatever reason, every time he gave her something to eat, she always got really sleepy when she was finished. She tried to sleep as much as she could because he didn't hit her or yell at her when she was asleep. When she was asleep, he left her alone.

"Sit down on the bed, and I'll make you something to eat." The stranger's gruff voice made everything he said sound like an order. She immediately took a seat on the lumpy mattress.

The man stepped over to the small counter in the room and grabbed a package of ramen noodles. The little girl wrinkled her nose; she was quickly becoming very tired of ramen noodles. Any time he made a meal for her, it was either ramen noodles or Cheerios. Her mother had always cooked for her, and she missed her mother's meals. Was she ever going to see her mother again? The tears came without warning, and before she even realized what she was doing, the question tumbled from her mouth, "When can I see my mommy again?"

The man shot her a glare before turning back to the noodles. He stirred the bowl of water and noodles, set it in the microwave, and set the timer for four minutes. Then he turned around to stare down the little girl. "What did I tell you about questions?"

"Why did you take me from my mommy?" she asked. She knew she was making him mad, but she couldn't stop the words from coming. "Please, I just want my mommy."

The man rushed towards her, grabbed her by the shoulders, and forced her back against the headboard. The little girl whimpered as her head slammed into the wall. "I said no questions!"

Tears quickly began running down her cheeks as her head exploded in pain. "I want my mommy!" she cried, her voice rising in hysteria. "I just want my mommy!"

"Shut up!" the man yelled, pulling her away from the headboard. Shaking her shoulders roughly, he forced her off the bed and pinned her against the wall. "I told you to be quiet!"

He held her against the wall for a moment longer before releasing his grip on her. She crumpled to the floor, holding her throbbing head. She was sobbing, her breath coming out in shuddering gasps. Quickly realizing that he would throw her against the wall again if she didn't quiet down, she began forcing herself to calm down by taking deep, even breaths. She was just starting to breathe normally again when the microwave dinged; her dinner was ready.

The little girl picked herself up off the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to bring the bowl to her. She watched as he stirred the soup again before taking it to her. She accepted the bowl and began eating. After what she had just been through, she wasn't hungry anymore, but she knew better than to refuse to eat. That would only make him even more angry.

She began getting sleepy before she had eaten all of the noodles. She didn't normally become tired that quickly, but after what she had just experienced, she didn't care. She got off the bed and put the bowl on the counter so the man could wash it; he was going to need it again for her cereal in the morning. Then she crawled back onto her bed and curled up in a ball on her side. The last thing she thought of as she drifted off to sleep was her mother wrapping her in a long, comforting hug.


	2. Chapter One

It was dark by the time John Winchester had finally found Massachusetts Route 18. His older son, Dean, was seated next to him in the Impala on the passenger side, a map book open in his lap. His younger son, Sam, was curled up in the back seat, sound asleep. Sam had been dozing since they had gotten off the interstate, seemingly hours ago. If there hadn't been that construction right after the exit ramp, the Winchesters would have been pulling into the parking lot of the Willow Motel while the sun was still in the sky. Instead, they had lost an hour of travel time due to both the unexpected detour and having to stop for a bite to eat.

As John kept his eyes trained on the road ahead of him, Dean allowed his gaze to wander. Whitman, Massachusetts was a small town, and small towns all tended to look the same to him. The little family-run shops and stores lining his side of the road told him that they must have been on the main road through the town. _Probably even named Main Street_, he thought as he glanced down at the map, running his finger along their route until he found Route 18. He was surprised to learn that its name was Bedford Street.

A flash of color ahead of them caught his eye. As the car pulled closer, he realized that the color was from a couple of flags on the top of a building that was shaped like a castle. Just past the castle, he could see a small Ferris wheel. "Dad!" he exclaimed, pointing out the window. "Look, they have rides!"

John slowed the Impala down as they passed the small theme park. "And dragons," he said, spotting the necks and heads of two metal dragons over the six-foot fence that separated the play area from the parking lot.

"Can we go there before we leave?" Dean asked, his eyes twinkling as he practically begged his father to agree. "Please? Sam would love it!"

"We'll see, Dean," John said testily. "Can we find the motel first before we starting planning side trips?"

"Sorry," Dean said softly, looking back down at the map.

John glanced over at his son and immediately felt guilty for being abrupt with him. "I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't mean to be short with you; I'm just tired."

"It's okay," Dean said with a shrug. As he settled back in the seat again, he caught a road sign out of the corner of his eye. "Dad, motel on the left."

John slowed down and made the turn into the motel's parking lot. The red building was small and dark with lights on in only a few windows. Dean shuddered involuntarily; for some reason, the motel was giving him the creeps. "Do we really have to stay here?" he asked.

"It's the only place in the area. You boys'll be fine." John found his way to the check-in office and parked the Impala out front. As he turned the engine off, he glanced up into the rearview mirror to check on Sam. "Stay here with your brother," he said to Dean. "I'll be right back."

Dean nodded in agreement and took a deep breath in as his father got out of the car and quietly closed the door. As his father disappeared into the office, Dean took off his seatbelt and twisted around in his seat so he could look out the rear window. He counted six windows that had lights on; the rest were dark, seemingly unoccupied. He certainly hoped that the motel would be less intimidating in the light of day because even though he didn't scare easily, he was a little frightened of the prospect of staying in one of those little rooms with just himself and his brother.

John returned two minutes later, a motel room key in his hand. He sat down in the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. "Keep your eye out for room fourteen," he said, handing the room key to Dean.

John had just pulled out of the parking space and turned towards the main building when the headlights illuminated a black fourteen on one of the doors in front of them. Dean smirked, "Dad, there's room fourteen."

John chuckled. "Thanks."

After John had parked the car outside their room, Dean got out of the car and opened the back door on the passenger side. He grabbed the straps of his duffel bag and reached down to the floor to grab his brother's backpack. His father opened the back door on the other side, grabbed his bag from the floor of the car, and began gently gathering Sam in his arms. Dean slid his arm into one of the straps of Sam's backpack and switched his duffel bag into his other hand. He quietly closed the car door and hurried to the motel room's door so that he could open it for his father.

Dean switched on the room's overhead light and let out a relieved breath. The room looked like a typical motel room: two beds, a television, a dresser, a small table with two chairs, and a small bathroom. At least the room itself didn't give him the creeps. He and Sam spent the bulk of their time in the room anyway. They were only allowed outside if there was a play area and if John had decided beforehand that it was all right.

John set Sam down on the bed closest to the door. "Want me to get his pajamas?" Dean asked in a whisper as he set both of their bags down in the corner.

"Nah," John replied as he began untying Sam's shoes. "I don't think I'm going to be able to wake him up enough to get his pajamas on."

"Okay." Dean instead set about unpacking and making himself at home. He had become quite an expert at that and he finished rather quickly. By the time he had finished, John had gotten Sam's shoes off and had the little boy tucked under the covers. "Are you going out tonight?"

John ran his thumb over Sam's forehead as a good night gesture and then turned to Dean. "Yeah. Kids are going to be all over that playground tomorrow; I need to get in there tonight." He dug a brochure out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. "In the office, they had some information on the castle and dragons down the street. If I finish this up early, we can stop in there before we leave the area."

Dean grinned happily as he looked through the brochure. "Thank you! Sam'll get a kick out of it."

"He'll just want to go on the Tilt-a-Whirl until he throws up," John said with a chuckle. He pulled a couple of necessities out of his duffel bag and then turned towards the door. "I should be back by first light. Don't stay up too late."

Dean shook his head. "I'm just going to watch a little TV and then go to sleep. I'm a little tired, too."

John nodded and then headed out the door. A moment later, Dean heard the Impala's engine turn over and the car drive off into the night. He crept up to the window, pulled the curtain back slightly, and peeked out at the motel grounds. He shuddered again, quickly deciding that he was definitely going to be sleeping with the television on.


	3. Chapter Two

Sam was lying on his stomach on the floor of the motel room, coloring pictures of Charlie Brown and the other Peanuts characters in a new book his father had bought him before arriving in Massachusetts. Over a day and a half, he had colored close to half the pictures in the book, and he had grown tired of coloring.

He tossed the crayon in his hand back into the pile on the floor and sighed. He pushed himself into a sitting position and began putting the crayons back into the Quaker Oats tin he used to carry them.

After placing the lid back on the tin, he stood up and put both the tin and the coloring book back into his backpack. Then he stood in front of Dean, who was lying on the bed trying to watch something on the television. "Dean," he whined, "I'm bored."

Dean sighed and sat up straight, trying to see the television past Sam. "Go play with your guys or something," he said, remembering that Sam had a good number of action figures in his backpack.

"But I don't want to play with my guys," Sam argued. "I want to go outside. Can we go outside, Dean?"

"I don't know, Sam. Dad didn't say we could."

"But he didn't say we couldn't."

Dean shot his brother an annoyed look. Truthfully, Dean was feeling a bit stir-crazy himself. A day and a half was far too long for a six-year-old and a ten-year-old to have to spend cooped up in a motel room. His father had come home the first morning, but he had gone back out that afternoon and hadn't returned since. He had checked in by phone a few times, so Dean wasn't too worried about him being in trouble. He knew his father had a reason for staying out for so long. "Sam, I don't know. What if Dad calls and we're outside?"

"Dean, please?" Sam pouted. "Just for a few minutes. There's a swingset out there. Please?"

He hesitated, weighing his options. He knew that he should tell Sam that they had to stay inside, but he was itching to get out of the room himself. "Okay, but just for a few minutes."

"Yes!" Sam exclaimed. "Thank you!"

Dean couldn't help but smile at his brother's enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah." He grabbed the room key off the nightstand and slipped it into his pocket and then grabbed a book to read outside. "This is just for a few minutes, remember," he reminded his brother as he herded Sam to the door.

"Uh huh!" Sam stepped over the threshold of the motel room and stood on the deck as Dean closed the door and turned the key in the lock. He pushed on the door once to make sure it was indeed locked and then began walking around the building to get to the play area.

The red building still seemed very ominous to Dean. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened there once, something terrible. He had been sure that seeing it in the bright sunshine would take a bit of the creepiness away, but he was wrong. The building was too quiet for his liking; it made the motel seem dead.

As soon as the swingset was in sight, Sam took off running. Dean watched as Sam sat down on the empty swing and said hello to the little girl sitting on the other one. She giggled shyly and returned the greeting. Once Dean was sure that Sam was fine, he let his gaze wander around the small play area. Besides the small, two-swing swingset, there was also a tall slide and one see-saw. The equipment looked old but in good condition. Dean settled down at one of the two picnic tables and began reading his book.

After Dean had finished the fourth chapter in his book, he checked his watch and realized that he and Sam had been outside for a half an hour. "Sammy!" he called as he stood up from the picnic table. "Come on!"

Sam waited a moment and jumped off the swing, landing on his feet. He smiled in triumph and turned around to wave goodbye to the little girl. Grinning, she waved back. Then Sam ran up to his brother. "Do we really have to go back now?"

"Yes," Dean answered. "I don't want to be out if Dad calls." He put his hand on Sam's back and hurried him along. Once they got back to the room, Dean dug the key out of his pocket and opened the door. He stepped aside, allowing Sam entry, and then followed his brother inside, pushing the door closed. Sam immediately kicked his shoes off and sat down on the bed, grabbing the remote control off the nightstand.

"Who was that girl you were talking to?" Dean asked as he sat down in one of the chairs and pulled off his sneakers.

"Her name's Lucy," Sam replied. He turned the TV on and began flipping through the channels. "She was watching me jump off the swings."

Dean smiled. He had no doubt that once Sam had realized that she was watching him, he began showing off for her. "Is she your age?"

Sam shook his head. "She's five." He stopped flipping channels, a Tom and Jerry cartoon catching his eye. "You think I can play with her again later? She was kind of fun."

"We'll see," Dean answered. The next time he talked to his father, he was going to ask about being allowed to go outside. Even though they had only spent thirty minutes outside, Sam was already calmer and less antsy. Dean liked taking Sam out for a change of scenery every so often, but he didn't like leaving the room without his father's permission.

"Lucy told me about the castle place," Sam spoke up without taking his eyes off the television. "She says her mom takes her there all the time and it's really fun. Dad really said we could go there?"

"He said that if he finishes early, we can go," Dean confirmed.

"I hope he finishes early," Sam said softly.

Dean looked his brother over and smiled. "Want to know a secret?"

Sam finally looked away from the TV and glanced at Dean with a curious frown. "What?"

"I think he's going to take us even if he doesn't finish early. He knows how much you want to go."

Sam finally cracked a smile, the hope twinkling in his eyes. "You really think so?"

"I really do," Dean replied with a gentle smile.

"I hope you're right," Sam said, grinning dreamily. "I haven't been on a Tilt-a-Whirl in forever."


	4. Chapter Three

The sound of a child giggling woke Sam out of a sound sleep. Rubbing his eyes, he pushed himself up onto his elbow and checked the clock; it was eleven o'clock at night. By the time his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the giggling had stopped. He waited a moment, but it didn't start back up again and he shrugged, thinking maybe he just dreamed it.

He curled back up under the covers and was just starting to drift off again when he heard what sounded like someone bouncing a ball outside the door. This time, he knew he wasn't dreaming. Curious, he kicked the covers off his legs and climbed out of bed. He slowly made his way to the window, taking care not to trip on either his or his brother's shoes, and pulled the curtain back a little bit, just enough so that he could see the walkway to the rooms. The little girl he had met at the swingset was standing on the walk, holding a pink bouncy ball in one hand.

Sam pushed the curtain open a little further, his curiosity piqued even more. Lucy happened to look over at the building as he was doing so, and she spotted him in the window. She waved her hand, gesturing for him to come outside with her. Sam just shook his head; there was no way that Dean would let him go outside in the middle of the night.

Lucy pouted when she realized that Sam was telling her he couldn't come out and exaggerated her wave. Sam shook his head again. Lucy dropped her ball and ran up to the window, pressing her face against it while crossing her eyes. Sam laughed and when Lucy pointed towards the door, he nodded.

He dropped the curtain and hurried over to the door, standing on his tiptoes to reach the chain lock. The chain clattered against the doorjamb as it fell. Sam cringed and looked over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't woken his brother. When Dean didn't move, Sam pulled the door open. "What are you doing out here?" he whispered.

"Playing," Lucy answered. "Come play with me!"

"It's the middle of the night, Lucy," Sam said. "Why aren't you asleep?"

"Because I want to play," she said, shrugging. "Come on, Sam, we can have fun!"

Sam glanced back over his shoulder, making sure that Dean was still asleep. When he saw that he was, he turned back to Lucy. "Hang on a second." He closed the door and ran over to his backpack. After a little bit of rooting around, he dug up one of his action figures. He hurried back to the door, pulling it open, and set the action figure on the floor, half-in and half-out of the door's path. Carefully, he closed the door, making sure that the little plastic army figurine was keeping the door from closing completely and locking him outside. "If my brother catches me, he'll kill me," Sam said breathlessly; the thrill of doing something completely forbidden was making him giddy.

"I want to play hopscotch," Lucy said, giggling. Sam's enthusiasm was infectious. She ran away from the door and into the middle of the motel's grounds. The ground was littered with sticks and dead pine needles. "Do you know how to draw a hopscotch?"

"Of course I know how to draw a hopscotch," Sam said. He picked up a stick near his feet and began drawing the hopscotch field in the dirt.

Lucy stood next to him and smiled. "Go first," she said when he was finished drawing.

Sam picked up a rock by his feet and tossed it into the first box. He hopped the field, but on his return trip, he realized that every time he hopped into a box, his foot was moving the dirt and obscuring the number. "This isn't going to work," he said when he got back to Lucy. "We're going to erase it just by jumping in it."

"Hmm." Lucy looked down at the hopscotch field and frowned. "Do you know how to play Wet Feet?"

Sam shook his head at her. "Wet Feet?"

"You usually use jump ropes, but we can draw the lines," Lucy said. "You have these two lines and they're supposed to be the sides of a river, and you have to jump over both lines to get from one side of the river to the other. If you jump in between the two lines, you're out of the game because you jumped in the river and got wet feet!"

"That sounds like fun!" Sam exclaimed. He erased the hopscotch field with his foot and drew two parallel lines in the dirt. "Are the lines supposed to be this close together? Because this is going to be way too easy."

"Yeah, but each time you jump over the lines, you move them farther apart so the river gets wider."

"Oh! That makes more sense."

Sam and Lucy played the game for close to forty-five minutes, laughing and giggling the whole time. The lines in the dirt were so far apart that they had to take running starts. Sam erased the farthest line and redrew it another couple of inches further away, then hurried back to where Lucy was standing. Lucy took off running and just barely cleared both lines. Sam took a running start and jumped; the heel of his left foot landed inside the "river" area. "You have wet feet!" Lucy said, giggling excitedly. "Your heel is in the river!"

"Nuh uh!" Sam argued, but as he stepped away, he could see his footprint in the dirt; it was inside the line. "Aw, man!"

Lucy laughed. "Want to play again? Maybe you can beat me this time."

"I'm getting sleepy," Sam said, frowning. "Aren't you tired?"

Lucy shook her head, her dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. "No, but we can stop if you're tired."

Sam nodded and began walking back towards his motel room's door. "I should be getting back anyway. If Dean catches me out here, he'll kill me."

Lucy gave the slightest hint of a pout but nodded, accepting his answer. "Will you be able to play tomorrow?"

"I think so," Sam replied. He stopped outside the door with his hand on the knob. "What room are you in? I can come knock on the door if I can play."

"I'll be outside all day. I'll come find you."

"Okay," Sam shrugged. He retrieved the army figurine from the threshold and walked inside the room. By the time he had turned around to say good night to Lucy, she had already run off somewhere else to play. Sam could hear her giggling in the distance. Smiling, he shut the door and slid the chain lock back into place. Then he climbed back into bed, suddenly extremely tired from the activity. If Lucy played outside at night often, Sam had no idea how she had so much energy. His eyes closed almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and he was sound asleep in seconds.


	5. Chapter Four

Dean was not used to his mornings being so quiet, and as a result, he was bored to tears. Sam, who was usually up before him, was still asleep, and Dean had run out of things to do to amuse himself. As he contemplated waking Sam up just for something to do, he suddenly understood why Sam had developed that maddening habit himself. With a heavy sigh, he settled himself on his bed, grabbed the remote control, and turned on the television.

Flipping channels only provided him with entertainment for roughly five minutes. He let out a soft groan of disgust as he clicked off the television; nothing was ever on at nine in the morning anyway. After going through a mental to-do list--he'd already finished his book, eaten breakfast, gotten dressed, and even played for a few minutes with one of Sam's handheld video games--he came to the decision that it was high time for Sam to get out of bed.

Just as he got ready to shake Sam out of his slumber, he heard giggling outside the door. Frowning in confusion, Dean crept up to the window and pulled the curtain aside. The little girl that Sam had met on the small playground the day before was playing what looked to Dean like hopscotch on the dirt area between the office building and the motel proper. Dean watched her for a moment; after she reached the beginning of the hopscotch field on her return trip, she seemingly tired of the game and instead sat down at the picnic table with a bored expression on her face.

She scanned her surroundings and locked eyes with Dean. A huge smile spread across her face as she jumped up from the picnic table and began running toward the door. Dean dropped the curtain and hurried over to the door, taking down the chain lock. He opened the door to see Lucy standing with her hands crossed in front of her stomach. "Can Sam come out to play?" she asked eagerly.

"Sam's still asleep," Dean said apologetically, "but I can have him look for you a little later on."

"Okay," she replied, the disappointment obvious in her tone. "Tell him I'll be on the playground."

"I will," Dean said. He watched as Lucy ran back down the walk and around the building, ostensibly to go play on the playground. After she disappeared from view, Dean closed the door and put the chain lock back into place.

Luckily for Dean, the activity at the door had woken Sam. "Is Dad back?" he asked groggily, turning onto his back.

Dean turned around to face his brother and smiled teasingly. "No, that was your little girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend!" Sam retorted.

"Sure could have fooled me."

Sam stuck his tongue out at his brother before sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. "I'm hungry, Dean."

"I bet," Dean said. "Usually, you've been up for like, two hours by now."

Dean fixed Sam a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and a glass of milk for breakfast. Sam smiled a thank you and sat down at the small table to eat. "What are we going to do today?" Sam asked between spoonfuls of cereal.

"Well, I figure we can hang out here for a while and play games or something, you pick the game, and then we can go outside so you can play with Lucy. You know, just if you want to."

"Dad said we can play outside?" Sam asked excitedly, his face brightening. "I can play with Lucy?"

Dean smirked; oh, Lucy wasn't Sam's girlfriend, huh? Then why was he so excited to be able to go out and play with her? He was just about to say something to that effect when Sam interrupted to ask, "When did you talk to Dad?"

"He called this morning while you were sleeping," Dean answered. "He's narrowing down the leads on the thing that's hurting all those kids at that playground."

"Good." Sam shoveled the last spoonful of cereal into his mouth and stood up from the table. After dumping the milk still left in the bowl down the drain and leaving the bowl in the sink, he began pulling a change of clothes out of his backpack. "Can we play War?"

"I told you it was your pick," Dean replied. "If you want War, we'll play War. But I'm going to win."

"Nuh uh!" Sam argued. "_I'm _going to win because I'm going to get all four aces."

"In your dreams, squirt." Dean shot his brother a mischievous grin.

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Just wait. You're going down." Dean snickered and tousled his brother's hair as Sam walked by with his change of clothes on his way to the bathroom. Sam ducked out of his reach. "Don't do that!"

Dean grinned teasingly; he knew that Sam hated having his hair tousled like that. "It's going to be a very long day if you're annoyed with me already."

Sam just rolled his eyes and closed the bathroom door. Dean had to assume that, once he was out of view, Sam had cracked a smile.


	6. Chapter Five

Sam had been watching the bedside clock for what seemed to him like forever but was in reality only an hour. He was waiting for the red numbers on the face of the alarm clock to read eleven. He had almost fallen asleep a couple of times, but every time he felt himself starting to get tired, he pinched the back of his hand to wake himself up a little bit.

He and Lucy were going to play outside again. They had played together for half the day, climbing up the slide the wrong way and turning the picnic tables into both forts and houses, but when Dean had told Sam that they had to go back to the room, both Sam and Lucy had been disappointed. Lucy had leaned over and whispered in his ear that he should meet her on the playground at night again. They would be able to play as long as they wanted without anyone interrupting them. Sam was the one who had suggested waiting until eleven; that way, just as with the night before, he was sure Dean would be asleep.

After the numbers at long last flipped to eleven, Sam carefully climbed out of bed and silently made his way to his backpack. He came up with one of his action figures, headed over to the door, and unlatched the chain lock. Placing the action figure the same place he had the night before, he stepped over the threshold and eased the door closed. "Lucy," he called in a loud whisper as he hurried away from the door. "Lucy, where are you?"

"Here I am!" came a voice from behind him.

Sam whirled on his heels to face her, startled. When he saw Lucy standing behind him, grinning, he let out a breath of relief. "Don't do that!" he said through nervous laughter, holding his hand over his heart.

Lucy just giggled. "Gotcha!" She took off running towards the playground, and Sam quickly gave chase. She squealed with delight and sped up, trying to outrun him. She reached the swingset first and sat down on the rightmost swing. "Beat you!" she yelled triumphantly.

Sam arrived at the other swing a mere second after Lucy sat down in hers. "How are you so fast?"

"It's a secret," Lucy said with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, right," Sam said, rolling his eyes slightly. He sat down in the swing, pushing himself back and forth slightly with his feet. "So what do you want to do?"

"Do you know how to do cartwheels?" Lucy asked, her dark eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

Sam raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her. Cartwheels? That was so … girly. "No."

"Want to learn? I can show you!"

"Not really," Sam replied, wrinkling his nose.

Lucy pouted but quickly came up with another plan of action. She hopped off the swing and ran over to the open area between the slide and the see-saw. Raising her arms out straight on either side, she put her head back and began spinning around in place. After a few moments she stopped spinning and dropped to her knees, giggling at how dizzy she was. Sam laughed and stood up from his swing to join her.

Soon they were both lying on their backs on the ground, head-to-head and facing opposite directions, dizzy and giggling uncontrollably. "The sky's still spinning!" Sam exclaimed breathlessly. "This is so much fun! I never get to do stuff like this."

Lucy turned onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, her chin in her hands. "Why not?"

Sam, too, rolled onto his stomach and faced Lucy. "Well, I don't get to play with a lot of other kids. We travel around a lot and my dad goes out most of the time. It's just me and Dean."

"What about your mom?"

Sam looked down at the ground, downcast. "My mom's gone."

"Gone where?" Lucy asked.

He shrugged as he raised his eyes back up to meet Lucy's. "I don't know. That's just what my dad says when I ask him."

The two of them fell silent for a moment or two before Sam spoke up again. "Why are you staying here? Are you on vacation?"

It was Lucy's turn glance down at the ground sadly. "No, I was taken here."

"Taken?"

Lucy looked back up at him, blinking quickly to hide the tears in her eyes. "This man told me that my mom was hurt and that he was going to take me to her if I went with him, but he brought me here instead. He was really mean and I couldn't talk a lot because he liked it quiet. But then one day, I woke up and he was gone! So now I'm waiting here for my mom to come and find me."

"Why are you waiting here?" Sam asked, wrinkling his brow in confusion. "Why can't you go find her?"

"Because she always told me that if I ever got lost, I should stay where I am and she'll come and find me."

Sam nodded in understanding and they fell into a comfortable silence. Sam eventually turned over onto his back again and placed his hands behind his head, his fingers interlaced. Lucy crawled forward so that she lying next to him, placing her right arm under her head as a makeshift pillow. They both gazed up at the night sky, watching the stars twinkle. "The stars are winking at us," Lucy spoke up softly.

Sam smiled. "It's like they're telling us a secret and making us promise not to tell."

"I like that," Lucy said dreamily. "What kind of secrets could they tell us?"

"The stars see everything," Sam replied. "I bet they could tell us anything we wanted to know."

Lucy turned her head and grinned at Sam, then returned her attention to the winking stars. The two of them lay in silence and after a moment, Sam allowed his eyes to slide closed. It was sort of surprising to him how comfortable he was with Lucy. He felt as if he'd known her for a lot longer than two days. His days were typically boring and long, but he was having a great deal of fun spending time with Lucy.

Just as Sam started drifting off, he heard someone calling his name. He sat up and looked over at Lucy, thinking that she was the one who had called him. One look at her face told him that she was just as confused as he felt. His name was frantically called again and this time, he recognized the voice. "Oh, crap!" he exclaimed as he jumped to his feet.

"What's the matter?" Lucy asked, standing up as well.

"It's my brother," Sam replied, brushing sand and grass from his pajamas. "He's going to _kill_ me!"

Lucy opened her mouth to apologize but she was cut short when Dean appeared around the corner of the building. Once he spotted the two children, he rushed up to them, a mixture of relief and anger on his face. "What are you two doing out here?!"

"W-we were just playing," Sam started, attempting to explain.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Dean interrupted. "Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for the two of you to be out here alone in the middle of the night?"

"It was my idea," Lucy said, hoping to catch Dean's attention. It worked; he switched his glare from his brother to her. "Don't get mad at him. I asked him to come out and play with me."

"That may be true, but he knows better than to go outside in the middle of the night." Dean sighed, calming down now that the initial adrenaline rush was over. He took Sam's hand and began dragging his brother back to their room. "Lucy, go back to your room. It's safer there for you."

Lucy nodded. As Dean was leading him back to their room, Sam turned around and looked at Lucy over his shoulder. She gave him a look that clearly said that she was sorry for causing him to get into trouble, and he gave her one back that clearly said that he forgave her. Plus, he knew that Lucy wasn't solely to blame; he had agreed to the plan.

The two brothers were silent as they walked back into the room. Dean tossed the army figurine Sam had left in the doorway onto Sam's bed, ushered Sam inside, and then slammed the door closed behind them.

"Don't you _ever_ do anything like that again!" Dean hollered at his brother. "Do you know how scared I was when I woke up and you were just gone?!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam said quietly, looking down in shame. He perched on the edge of the bed and prepared himself for Dean to continue yelling at him; he knew he deserved it.

"What even possessed you two to go play outside in the middle of the night?"

Sam just shrugged. He knew that attempting to worm his way out of this one was pointless.

"Was it really her idea?"

"Yes and no." Sam met his brother's eyes, trying to keep back the tears that were welling in his own. "She asked me to come play with her again at night. I was the one who had decided to play so late."

"Why would you two even think about playing at night?"

"Don't get mad at me?" Sam's voice was small, plaintive. Dean immediately softened, knowing that Sam knew he was in major trouble. "We played outside last night, too."

"You did this more than once?" The knowledge that had Sam had gone behind his back not once, but twice had just quashed whatever sympathy Sam had garnered in Dean. "Sam!"

As soon as he saw that his brother was getting angry again, Sam finally jumped to his feet to defend himself. "Dean, she's lonely! All she wants is someone to play with, and I like playing with her! She's a lot of fun and if I can make it more fun for her until her mom finds her again, then I want to do it."

Dean had intended to counter Sam's points, but the words died on his lips as he processed what Sam had said. "What do you mean, until her mom finds her?"

Sam took a breath in and held it, hesitant to reveal the story about Lucy's experiences at the motel. He didn't feel it was a secret, but he also didn't feel like he should be telling other people about it without asking her first. In the end, Sam realized that if Dean was going to understand why Sam had done what he did, he needed to know the truth. After another moment's pause, he told Dean how Lucy had come to stay at the motel and why she was waiting for her mother. "I just want to help her, Dean. We're playing together, helping each other."

Dean let out a heavy sigh. His brother's instincts were altruistic, but the way he was going about acting on them was dangerous. "Fine, I get that you want to help her. But please promise me you won't sneak out at night anymore? You guys can play all you want during the day, but no more going out at night."

"I promise," Sam said.

"Good." He walked up to Sam and gave his brother a small thwack upside the head. "That's for scaring the crap out of me," he said, only half-joking.

Sam didn't even argue; he felt horrible for scaring Dean. He knew what he had done was wrong and he knew he deserved to be in trouble. After a moment, he climbed back into bed and tugged the covers up to his chin. "Hey, Dean?" he asked as he curled up on his side.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Are you going to tell Dad? About Lucy and what we did tonight?"

He heard Dean sigh, presumably mulling over his options. "I should, I really, really should, but I'm not. But if you do it again, you're toast."

Sam smiled sleepily. "Thanks."

"Just go to sleep, squirt."

"G'night," Sam said through a yawn. The warmth of the blankets was extremely comforting and he was asleep before Dean had climbed back into his own bed.


	7. Chapter Six

John Winchester pulled the Impala up to his motel room at seven the following morning. He had been on the hunt for three and a half days and he wanted nothing more than to sit down, have a cup of coffee, and be with his boys. Jobs where children were the victims were always hard for him, and this one had been especially difficult. He turned the car off, grabbed his gear, and exited the Impala. After digging in his pocket for the extra room key, he slid it into the lock and pushed open the door. Then he quietly eased the door closed and set his duffel bag on the floor. When he finally looked up, he was surprised to see that Dean was sitting up in bed, paging through a magazine. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Dean shook his head, shrugging slightly. "No. Just couldn't sleep."

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

A hint of a smirk tugged at the corners of Dean's mouth. "Nah," he answered after a moment. "Well, I think Sam has a girlfriend now, but that's the only thing."

John chuckled. "Nothing like starting early." He tiredly made his way to the small coffee machine on the counter outside the bathroom.

The look of curiosity on Dean's face didn't escape John. He knew that Dean wanted to ask about how the hunt had gone but was unsure how much John was willing to talk about it. "Did you get it?" Dean finally asked, hoping that his phrasing was vague enough for his father to comfortably answer the question.

"Yeah," John answered. He opened the single-serve bag of coffee grounds and poured them into a filter. He slid the filter basket back into place, poured hot water into the reservoir, and pressed the start button. "Someday people will realize that building a playground next to a cemetery is not exactly the greatest idea in the world."

"Was it a spirit?" Dean asked, curious.

"Yeah."

John didn't expand on the subject any further. He didn't know how to explain to Dean that the man whose bones he dusted had been a child molester when he was alive. During his life he had preferred little girls and in death, his tastes remained the same. Over the previous eleven years, he had attacked nine little girls on the playground, none of them over seven years of age. The town's police department had never found any physical evidence at the playground or the surrounding areas and was thus at a loss as to how to find an attacker that seemingly hadn't been there. All of the girls had survived the attacks, save for the first victim, who had disappeared without a trace in 1978. The fact that the first victim was never seen again was still bothering him.

"Dad?"

"What, Dean?"

Dean climbed out of bed and sat down at the small table with his father. "Is everything okay?"

John met his son's eyes; Dean wanted so badly to help, to make things right. He smiled, if only for Dean's sake. "Yeah. There's just one unresolved issue with this job and I can't make my peace with it."

"So tell me about it," Dean said, all but begging his father to let him help.

John sighed softly; the details of the job were not things he wanted his son to know. Children Dean's age didn't need to be thinking about child molesters and kids disappearing, never to be heard from again. On the other hand, a fresh, uncluttered view on the situation could be helpful.

The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee tore John's attention away from his immediate dilemma. By the time he had risen, poured himself a cup of the dark liquid, and sat back down at the table, he had resolved to let Dean in on the secret, telling him the basics and leaving out some of the gorier details. "All of the children this spirit attacked survived and were relatively okay, except for the first one. A friend's mother had taken the girls to the playground, but when she went to bring Lucy home, she--"

"Wait, what?" Dean gasped, interrupting his father. "Did you just say her name was Lucy? How old was she?""

John raised a perplexed eyebrow at his son. What on earth was making Dean react so strongly to a girl's name? "She was five."

Dean just shook his head, as if to clear it. "Do you have a picture of her?"

John shot his son a bewildered look, but wordlessly, he grabbed his journal and began rifling through it for the newspaper clipping about Lucy Saybrooke's disappearance. After a moment, he found it and handed the newsprint over to his son.

The color almost immediately drained from Dean's face as his jaw dropped open in awe. A second later, the surprise on his features disappeared and was instead replaced with sudden understanding. "Um, Dad? You know when I said that Sam had a girlfriend? This is her."

"What?" John asked. He snatched the picture back from Dean and studied it himself. "Dean, are you sure? This girl disappeared in 1978."

"I'm positive," Dean replied with a sincere nod. "I've seen her myself. I've even talked to her! I'm telling you, Sam's been playing with this girl all week."

"And she hasn't hurt him? She hasn't done anything to him?"

"She hasn't done a thing to him; they've just been playing. Running around, telling jokes, playing games." He shrugged. "You know, kid stuff."

John let out a sigh and sat back in his chair. This was a twist he certainly hadn't been expecting. Not only was he now dealing with a haunted motel on top of the haunted playground he had just taken care of, but the mystery of the missing first victim had just gotten infinitely more complicated. "If she's haunting the motel, she died here, not on the playground. But that doesn't make any sense. The playground's near here but the other victims were attacked _on _the playground, not near the playground."

Dean dropped his gaze to the table in a thoughtful silence before speaking up again. "Maybe the police were wrong. Maybe she's not the first victim."

John had been thinking the same thing, that Lucy couldn't be the first victim, but he wondered what his son knew about Lucy that was making him put forth that theory. "Why do you say that?"

Dean recounted what Sam had told him about how Lucy had been taken to the motel by a man who told her that her mother was in an accident.

By the time Dean had finished the story, John had reached the same conclusion that his son had: Lucy was not the first victim of the playground spirit. Her experience was completely different from that of the eight other girls who had been attacked over the years. Plus, it wasn't as if a spirit could kidnap a child, rent a motel room, and hold her there indefinitely.

It seemed as though Maryann Saybrooke was correct in her assumption that her daughter's case was not connected with the other attacks on the playground. Over the years, she had come to believe that her ex-boyfriend had arranged to have her daughter kidnapped. He had threatened it before, but the police had never been able to find a tangible connection between her daughter's disappearance and her ex-boyfriend. Once the second girl was attacked on the same playground that Lucy disappeared from, the police quickly concluded that Lucy's disappearance was due to the same perpetrator.

And now, John was stuck with trying to piece together an eleven-year-old mystery where the only one who could tell him what had happened was the spirit of a five-year-old, a ghost that just so happened to have become his younger son's best friend._ Figures that one of my kids would befriend a ghost_, he thought as he glanced over at his younger son, who was still buried under the covers, fast asleep. After a quick moment of consideration, he realized that if he was going to figure out what really happened to Lucy, he was going to need Sam.


	8. Chapter Seven

As Sam closed the motel room door behind himself, he took a deep breath and mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do. His father had woken him up and explained that after he got dressed, he was to go outside, find Lucy, and ask her what had happened when the stranger had taken her. Though John had promised that they were going to help Lucy, Sam was worried that making Lucy talk about what she had been through would upset her. And if there was one thing Sam absolutely did not want to do, it was upset Lucy.

After scanning the grounds quickly, he realized that she wasn't out front, so he hurried around the building, hoping to find her at the swingset. Unfortunately, she wasn't there, either. With a frown, he turned around and wondered where else she could be. "Lucy?" he called, figuring that she was hiding on him. "Lucy, are you out here?"

It was silent for a moment, then from directly behind him came a soft giggle. "I'm right here!"

Startled, Sam jumped and turned on his heel with a loud gasp. After he had caught his breath, he felt foolish for falling for the same trick a second time. "I told you not to do that!"

Lucy allowed a mischievous grin before quickly turning serious. "You didn't get in too much trouble last night, did you?"

"No," Sam replied, giving her a half-hearted shrug.

Relief registered on her face as she let out a breath. "Good."

When Sam realized how worried she'd been that she had gotten him into trouble, Sam felt a pang of guilt in his stomach. How could he, in good conscience, ask her what he needed to ask her? It was obvious from her demeanor when she'd told him what little she'd told him the night before that what she'd experienced was awful and upsetting to her. How could he make her relive it? He held her gaze for a long moment, then broke eye contact and dejectedly wandered over to the swingset. He sat down in the right swing but didn't lift his gaze from the ground.

Lucy furrowed her brow at him, wondering why he was being so quiet. After a moment, she sat down on the swing next to him and gently tapped his foot with hers.

Sam finally looked up at her, smiling, and kicked her foot back. "My dad came back this morning. We're going to have to leave soon."

A loud gasp escaped Lucy's lips. "But I don't want you to leave!" she cried, her tone verging on a whine. "You _can't_ leave."

"Believe me, I don't want to leave, either," Sam mumbled. He closed his eyes, trying to build up the courage to ask her what his father wanted him to ask her. Lucy was his friend and he really didn't want to hurt her, but he knew that if his father wanted to know the details, he had a reason for wanting to know. As he opened his eyes, he let out a nervous breath. "Hey, Lucy? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug.

After a moment's hesitation, he spoke up shyly. "What happened when the man took you?"

Immediately, Lucy dropped her gaze to her lap. There wasn't much that Lucy didn't want to talk about, but what the man had done to her and the time she had spent with him counted as two subjects she would rather keep to herself. "I really don't want to talk about it."

Guilt churned in Sam's stomach. Why was his father making him do this? It was cruel. "I don't want to make you sad, Lucy, but my dad thinks if he knows what happened to you, he can help you."

"Help me how?" Lucy asked, her gaze still trained on the dirt underneath her swing.

"I don't know," Sam admitted, shrugging slightly. "But my dad helps people all the time, so if he thinks he can help, he probably can."

Lucy nodded, taking what Sam had said into consideration. After a long beat, she lifted her head and met Sam's eyes, blinking back tears. "I was over at my friend Emily's house and we begged her mom to take us to the playground. We were playing hide and seek and this man came up to me and asked me if Maryann Saybrooke was my mom. I said yes and he told me that she had been in an accident and that he was going to take me to her. Emily told me not to go, but I went anyway because I thought my mom was hurt! The man took me to his car and then we drove here."

Her voice cracked and she stopped talking. Feeling the need to move, she stood up from the swing and wandered few feet away, closer to the picnic tables. She flopped down on the ground, tucking her knees up underneath herself. Sam followed suit, taking a seat on the ground in front of her. She didn't look up at Sam; instead she busied herself with playing around with the dirt by her feet. "He took me to a room and he gave me some food. A bowl of Cheerios. It tasted funny, but when I told him that, he just yelled at me and told me to eat it anyway. That was when I started getting scared. After I was done with the Cheerios, I started getting really tired. I kept trying to stay awake because he kept telling me we'd go see my mom soon, but I fell asleep anyway."

After a momen't pause, she raised her eyes to meet Sam's, sniffling back tears. "After I woke up, I asked him when we were going to see my mom, but he just kept telling me to be quiet. I figured out that he wasn't going to take me to my mom and that he had probably even lied to me about her being in an accident. He didn't let me talk much and if I got too loud, he hit me."

Sam's jaw dropped as he looked her over in awe. He couldn't imagine having to go through something like that. To say that he didn't even know what to say to her was an understatement.

Not that it mattered; she was on a roll now. Apparently, she'd needed to get the story out more than she'd realized. "The last day was the worst. I guess I kind of lost it and I was crying, and he hit me and pushed me up against the wall. When it was dinnertime, he gave me ramen but it tasted funnier than normal, and I got sleepier than normal, too. I went to sleep and when I woke up, he was gone! I was so excited! I knew that my mom would be looking for me because I was gone for so long, so I stayed here like she told me to. She just has to find me and then I can go home." A small smile formed on her lips. "Oh Sam, I can't wait to go home."

Sam smiled back, hoping to comfort her. "I hope she comes for you soon."

Lucy pushed herself to her feet and brushed her dark hair out of her eyes, shaking off the last visible signs of the trauma from telling her story. "Can we play now? I want to play on the slide again like we were doing yesterday."

Sam stood as well, brushing the dirt from his jeans. "Actually, I have to go back and tell my dad something. I'll be right back, though. Will you still be out here in a few minutes?"

Shrugging, she gave him a slight nod. "Yeah, sure."

The sad, pained look on Lucy's face made him hesitate. After forcing her to tell her story, the last thing he wanted to do was leave her, but he was under strict to orders to get the story and report back to his father. He waited a long moment, then gave her a calm smile, turned, and began running back to the motel room.

"Hey, Sam?" Lucy called from behind him.

Pausing in his tracks, he turned to face her. "What?"

"You promise me you'll come back out to play before you leave?"

Sam frowned in confusion but he nodded, giving her confirmation. "I promise."

Lucy waited a moment before giving him a sad half-smile. "Good." She turned around and ran back to the swingset.

Wondering why she had asked him if he promised to come back, Sam watched her for a long moment. Eventually, he shook his head slightly as if to clear it and resumed going back to the motel room. The sooner he told his father what Lucy had been through, the sooner he could get back out to play with her. He had every intention of spending every possible moment with her until they had to leave.


	9. Chapter Eight

John intently listened as Sam related the details of Lucy's abduction, how the man had held her for days, how he had hit her when she spoke. After hearing what Sam had to say, there was no longer any doubt in John's mind that the haunting at the Willow Motel was a separate job unrelated to the one that had brought him to Massachusetts in the first place. A two-for-one hunt wasn't unheard of, but it had been a long time since he'd had one.

The subject matter of the conversation he was going to have with Dean was sensitive, and John didn't want Sam knowing why he had needed Lucy to give them all that information. There was only one way to get Sam out of the room again, and as much as it pained him to send his son back outside to play with a ghost, that was exactly what he did. "Thank you, Sammy. You can go back out and play now."

Sam grinned widely and rushed outside, calling for Lucy as he closed the door. Dean looked from the door to his father, his eyes silently asking why he sent Sam out of the room. "He doesn't need to hear this," John replied.

Dean nodded in understanding as he took a seat again at the small table. "So what do you think really happened?"

John sighed. It was not going to be easy piecing together the whole story with third-hand information from a woman whose only daughter went missing over a decade before and the holes in the story being filled in by the word of a five-year-old filtered through a six-year-old. "He was drugging her," John said pensively, his eyes closed in thought. "She said her food tasted funny, and she was always tired after she ate. He was drugging her food."

Puzzled, Dean wrinkled his brow and sat up straighter in his chair. "Why?"

"To keep her quiet," John replied with a small shrug. "He wanted her quiet. Doesn't sound like he had much patience for a five-year-old."

The younger Winchester considered that for a moment, then frowned in confusion. "But why would someone take a little kid if they don't have patience for kids?"

John had to admit that Dean had a perfectly fair question, and it threw a whole slew of other details into question. The abduction didn't seem to be, on the whole, about violence. The man had hit Lucy but it didn't seem that he had gotten any more physical than that. The violence he showed her seemed mostly to stem from his inability to handle children rather than a desire or need to harm a child. The kidnapping wasn't about money, either, as Lucy's mother never received a ransom demand.

The only thing John could think of that made any kind of sense was that the child had been taken as a scare tactic; the ex-boyfriend had somehow made good on his threat to take Lucy away from Maryann. The fact that the police had investigated that avenue and had come up blank just meant that the boyfriend had covered his tracks extremely well. Since Lucy obviously did not know the man who had taken her, John could only assume that the man was either a friend of the boyfriend or someone he had hired for the sole purpose of taking her. The fact that Lucy was not killed right away told him that the plan had most likely been to keep Lucy hidden for a few days and then return her to her mother as a way for the ex-boyfriend to exert control over Maryann. Of course, how Lucy had wound up dead in the end was still a mystery.

As John again mentally went through Sam's story, the answer dawned on him. "It was an accident."

Dean raised an eyebrow at his father. "What was an accident?"

"Her death. He wasn't supposed to kill her."

"How do you figure?"

"She said the last meal he gave her tasted weirder than normal and she also said that she got sleepier than normal. He must have overdosed her by mistake, put too much of the sedative in her food and it killed her."

"She said when she woke up after that, he was gone," Dean continued, finally catching onto his father's train of thought. "He didn't go anywhere, she just didn't really wake up!"

"Exactly."

"I _knew_ something had happened here!" Dean said almost disbelievingly. "I knew this place gave me the creeps for a reason."

John heaved a long sigh and sat back in his chair at the table. The expanse of pine trees and woods outside the window caught his attention as he wondered what the man's next move would have been. Obviously, he would have needed to get rid of the body. Perhaps he had even buried her somewhere in the woods behind the motel. "The police never found her, so he had to have hidden her body somewhere. But that means she could be anywhere. We can't salt and burn her remains if we can't find them."

Dean bit his lip in thought as he dropped his gaze to the table. His father had a point. Without her remains, they would not be able to force her into crossing over, and she was too adamant about staying at the motel to leave willingly. She was going to continue to play her childhood games on the grounds of the Willow Motel forever, waiting an eternity for her mother to come for her. Suddenly, Dean gasped in realization. "Dad, she thinks she's lost!"

"What?" John asked.

"She told Sam that her mother always told her that if she got lost, she should stay were she is and her mother would come find her," Dean explained after taking just a moment to collect his thoughts. "That's why she's staying here. She's waiting for her mother to find her."

John took the information in with a slight, knowing smile. "We don't need to burn her remains. We just need to convince her that her mother has finally come for her."

Dean grinned, proud of himself for figuring out such a large piece of the mystery. After a moment of thought, however, his smile quickly turned into a frown. "But after what she's been through, she's not going to listen to us."

It was John's turn to admit that his son had a point. A stranger had violated Lucy's sense of trust and because of that, she wasn't likely to take John or even Dean at their word simply because she didn't know them. The only member of the family she trusted enough to take at his word was Sam. When John came to that realization, he scoffed and shook his head slightly. "We have to let Sam do it," he ruefully replied after a beat. "I wish there was another way, but there's not. Sam has to do it."

-----

The air around the Willow Motel was filled with the sounds of good-natured taunting and teasing as Sam and Lucy continued their game of Tag. Sam had decided that the next time he and Lucy played Tag, she was going to have to be It first. He was already beginning to regret volunteering to be It first in this game. Every time he came close to catching Lucy, she would dart out of the way at the last second. "Lucy!" Sam whined as she dodged him again.

Lucy just giggled. "I forgot to tell you that I'm really good at this game," she called as she ran under the slide.

"Yeah, you did," Sam said in between heavy breaths. He stopped running, made a T with his hands for a timeout, and rested his hands on his knees, leaning forward a little so he could catch his breath. "How are you not tired?" he asked a moment later, looking up at his playmate.

Lucy just shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm just that good."

"Oh yeah, sure," Sam teased, rolling his eyes.

Lucy was about to respond with a comeback when she was interrupted by Dean's voice calling Sam's name. Sam let out a soft whimper and turned around, following the sound of his brother's voice. "What now?!" he cried when he saw Dean standing next to the building.

"Come here!" Dean called, waving his brother towards him.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to face Lucy, who pouted at him in disappointment. This was so completely unfair. It was bad enough that the Winchesters were going to be leaving the motel soon and Sam would never see Lucy again. He didn't want to spend what little time he did have left at the motel apart from her. However, he knew better than to disobey his brother, especially considering that Dean had agreed not to tell their father about Sam's midnight adventures. "I have to go see what he wants," Sam said apologetically. "I'll be back out as soon as I can."

Lucy frowned at him, dismayed. "You promise?"

"Promise," he replied, drawing an X across his chest with one finger. He turned away from her and hurried over to his brother, giving him a look that purely said whatever Dean wanted had better be worth it. "What is it now?"

"Just come here." Dean took his brother's hand and tugged, hurrying him along as they both made their way back to their motel room. "Dad wants to talk to you about something."

"Am I in trouble?" Sam asked as he quickened his step to keep up with his brother. Dean's hurried demeanor was making Sam anxious.

"No," Dean answered just as they arrived at the door. He grasped the knob and turned it, then stepped aside to let Sam enter the room before him. Warily, a suddenly nervous Sam stepped over the threshold. Whatever his father wanted to talk to him about, he got the feeling that it was not going to be a fun conversation. As soon as he saw the look on his father's face, his uneasy feeling was confirmed.

"Sit down, Sammy," John said quietly, nodding his head towards one of the beds.

That definitely didn't sound good. Sam did as he was told, perching uneasily on the edge of the bed nearest the door. Dean sat down behind Sam on the bed, and John repositioned the chair he was sitting in so that he was looking directly into Sam's eyes. "I want to talk to you about Lucy."

Sam immediately tensed and glanced over his shoulder at Dean. He had promised that Sam wasn't in trouble! Dean shook his head slightly, silently letting his brother know that he hadn't said anything to their father that would get Sam into trouble. Swallowing hard, Sam returned his attention to his father. "What about her?"

John cleared his throat and leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. He would have given anything not to be the one who had to break this news to his six-year-old son. "About eleven years ago, a man kidnapped a little girl from the playground and took her to this motel. Every time he gave her something to eat he also gave her some medicine that made her sleep a lot. One time, he accidentally gave her too much of the medicine and when the little girl went to sleep, she didn't wake up again."

Sam frowned in confusion. The story was sad, but so far it hadn't had anything to do with Lucy.

Upon seeing the puzzlement on Sam's face, John continued gently. "That man was the mean man that Lucy told you about, and that little girl was Lucy."

No, that wasn't right. It couldn't be right. Sam's father was usually right about things, but this time, he was wrong. "But Lucy _did_ wake up, Dad," Sam argued. "She told me she did. And besides, she's only five. She couldn't have been kidnapped eleven years ago."

"No, Sam, she didn't wake up."

"But she _said_ she woke up! She said she woke up and he was gone!"

"She only thought she woke up, and she only thought he was gone." Sam shook his head, refusing to believe that what his father said was true. John sighed; he had been anticipating this. He turned slightly in the chair and reached for his journal, which was still sitting on the table. He opened it and pulled out the newspaper clipping with Lucy's picture on it. After folding it a couple of times so that Sam couldn't see the details in the article, he reached forward and handed it to his son.

Sam gingerly took the piece of paper in his father's hand. The little girl in the picture was definitely Lucy, though the picture seemed to have been taken when she still had all her baby teeth. One of her front teeth had fallen out a couple of days before she was taken. "Th-this is Lucy," Sam shakily admitted.

John reached forward and pointed to the top of the page. "Look at the date."

Sam took a closer look at the printing when John moved his hand out of the way. The date in the corner of the paper was April 15, 1978. "But … this isn't right. It's not right."

"Think about it, Sammy," Dean said gently. "Did you ever touch her? Did she ever touch you? When she was on the swing, was she ever actually swinging or was she just sitting there?"

As Sam thought back on all the time he had spent with Lucy, he realized that his brother was indeed correct; he had never actually touched her, and she had never made any physical contact with him. She had never interacted with anything directly. Even in their games, Sam had been the one drawing the lines in the dirt or swinging the jump rope. And suddenly, it made sense why Lucy would play outside in the middle of the night and why she was never tired or out of breath. Sam shook his head, unwilling to believe it. No, Lucy couldn't be a ghost. "But she's not mean, Dad," he said quietly, his eyes searching his father's. "She's not mean."

John sighed softly and took the newspaper clipping back from Sam. "Sammy, they're not always mean. Sometimes … sometimes they just get lost."

Sam tore his eyes away from John's and instead fixed his gaze on the floor. He would have known if Lucy was a ghost, wouldn't he? He knew enough about them to be able to tell the difference between a ghost and a live person. Why didn't he realize from the beginning that Lucy was a ghost?

"Sammy, you okay?" John asked.

Sam just shrugged. His thoughts were racing and he couldn't seem to slow or stop them. A thousand questions tumbled around in his mind, questions he was pretty sure would never be answered. He felt Dean slide a hand onto his shoulder and squeeze comfortingly. When Sam finally looked up at his father, he had tears in his eyes. "What are we going to do? We can't just leave her here."

"Lucy lived right here in town. Her house is actually just down the street a little way, near the playground," John explained. When he had met with Maryann Saybrooke, she had mentioned that she hadn't had the heart to move away from the home she had shared with her daughter. "What I want you to do is tell her that her mother called the office here and told her to go home. Then you'll walk her home, with Dean following behind you just to make sure everything goes okay. We think that once she gets home and she's no longer 'lost', she'll move on."

Sam's jaw dropped open as he shook his head, refusing that course of action. "Y-you want me to lie to her! I can't lie to her."

"You'll be lying to her to help her, Sam," Dean gently assured his brother. "It's better for her if we don't tell her the truth."

John looked his younger son over, trying to come to terms with how unfair it was to put that kind of responsibility on a six-year-old's shoulders. "Sammy, I wish it didn't have to be this way, but this little girl deserves to rest and the only one of us she's going to trust is you."

Sam wanted more than anything to help Lucy. She didn't deserve to spend the rest of eternity on the motel grounds, waiting for something that was never going to happen. She deserved to be happy and carefree; she deserved to be a kid. Even though Sam hated the idea of lying to her, he did understand that lying to her was easier on her than telling her the truth. He took a deep breath in and held it for a long beat, then let it out slowly. Then he stood up from his seat on the bed and set his shoulders, resolving to help Lucy, no matter what it entailed. "When do we start?"


	10. Chapter Nine

Just before rounding the corner of the building, Sam stopped in his tracks and leaned against the wall, pressing his head back against the red clapboard. As he let out a sigh, he began preparing himself for what he was about to do. In a few minutes, he was going to lie to a little girl who had quickly become his best friend. He was going to tell a lie that was rather cruel. Lucy wanted so badly for her mother to come find her that telling her that her mother had called for her when she really hadn't struck Sam as mean. However, he also knew that his father and brother were right and that it was easier on Lucy if they lied. As much as he didn't want to lie to her, he really didn't want to have to explain to Lucy that the mean man had killed her years before and that she was actually a ghost.

After one final deep breath, Sam hurried around the building to the small play area behind the motel. "Lucy!" he shouted, calling for her when he didn't spot her at the slide or on the swings.

There was a short beat of silence and then Lucy exclaimed from behind him, "Boo!"

Sam was not startled this time and turned around to smile at her, suddenly understanding how she had been able to sneak up behind him so easily.

"You're back!" she cried happily.

"Yeah, I am," Sam said, hesitating at her excitement. It was time to put the plan into action. His breath hitched in his throat as he tried to force out the words. _Don't think about it_, he commanded himself. _Just tell her, don't think about it._ "Guess what! I have some good news for you! I was just in the office with my dad, and your mom called to see if you were here. She said she wanted you to come home right now."

"She did?" Lucy asked, a delighted smile slowly spreading across her face. A knot immediately formed in his stomach when he saw how happy and thrilled she was. "I knew she'd come for me, Sam! I told you she would!"

Oh, why did she have to be so excited? "Yes, you did," he replied after a moment's pause. "My dad said I could walk you home, if you want to go now. Do you know how to get to your house from here?"

"Yes!" Lucy nodded, grinning widely. "Well, I mean, I think so! I know how to get to my house from the playground, and the playground's just down the street." It was obvious that she was absolutely ecstatic at the prospect of finally going home and seeing her mother again. "Come on, Sam!" she exclaimed, taking off in a run. "I want to go home! I want to see my mom!"

"Hey, wait for me!" Sam ran after her and caught up with her a couple moments later as she was leaving the motel grounds.

As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Sam turned around and glanced over his shoulder, making sure that Dean was in fact following them. Dean, who was a few paces behind the two children, gave his brother a small wave. Sam nodded slightly to let Dean know that he saw him then faced front, turning his attention to Lucy.

The two kids were silent for a minute or two, each of them lost in their own thoughts. "You know what I'm going to do first?" Lucy asked, breaking the silence. "I'm going to give my mom a huge hug and tell her I'm sorry for leaving with that man because she told me never ever to go places with strangers. And then I'm going to ask her if we can go to the movies, just her and me. She promised she'd take me to see _Pete's Dragon_."

Sam inhaled sharply. Lucy's mention of _Pete's Dragon_ was the first time she'd said anything that proved she was from another time. _Pete's Dragon_ wasn't in the movie theaters anymore and was actually out on video; John had rented it once for him. Lucy, somewhat confused by Sam's silence, turned her head to look at him. When Sam saw the excited sparkle in her eyes, he forced a smile for her sake. "That sounds like a great plan."

The two of them walked in silence for another few minutes. The sounds of other children playing hit Sam's ears as he realized they were approaching a small playground. Looking past the playground a little, he could see thin headstones from an old cemetery. That had to have been the playground Lucy disappeared from all those years ago, the same playground that had been haunted by whatever his dad had just gone after.

"Sam?"

The sound of Lucy's voice startled him back to reality. "What?"

Abruptly, the little girl stopped walking and instead took a seat on one of the benches outside the playground area. Puzzled, Sam sat down next to her. Something was wrong; the excitement in Lucy's demeanor had disappeared and for only the second time since Sam had met her, she was on the verge of tears. "I'm not going to see you again, am I?"

After letting out a sad sigh, Sam shook his head. "I don't think so."

Lucy nodded and bit her lip, presumably to keep from crying. "I'm going to miss you. You're one of my best friends."

"I'm going to miss you, too," Sam replied, clearing his throat so he wouldn't sound upset.

The reality of Lucy's situation was starting to dawn on him. Once he walked her back to her house, she was going to go … somewhere. Though he didn't know exactly where she would go, he was pretty sure that she'd disappear forever. Lucy would never have a sixth birthday. She would never get to give her mother that huge hug. And poor Maryann Saybrooke would never know what really happened to her daughter. None of it was fair at all. Lucy had done nothing to deserve what happened to her, and it was beginning to make Sam angry.

Lucy shifted on the bench, turning slightly so that she was sitting sideways. "I'm never ever going to forget you," she said softly before leaning forward and giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

Though the kiss felt like nothing more than a soft breeze on his face, Sam immediately felt his cheeks blush furiously. Knowing that Dean was following behind him and had almost certainly seen her kiss him didn't help. He gave her a shy smile in return. "I'm never going to forget you, either."

Lucy smiled and after a long beat tore her eyes from his, then stood and continued walking towards the cemetery. Lucy led him past two side streets but then turned down the third one. When she reached the sixth house down, she stopped in front of the walk and gazed up at the house wistfully. Sam looked up at the small blue house and smiled. It did indeed look very cozy and comfortable, and he could easily see why Lucy missed it so much. "This is it? This is your house?"

"My mom's in there!" Lucy answered excitedly. "Oh, Sam, I can't wait to see my mom again!"

"Then what are you waiting for?" Sam asked, laughing. "Get in there!"

Lucy jumped up and down before grinning at Sam. "Thank you so much, Sam. You're the best friend I've ever had!"

Sam blinked away the tears that were welling in his eyes. "Goodbye, Lucy."

After a silent wave goodbye, Lucy ran up the walk and hurried up the porch steps. Just before she reached the door, Sam closed his eyes and turned away. He didn't want to watch her disappear or fade away or whatever it was that ghosts did when they finally moved on. He didn't want to remember her like that. Instead, he wanted to remember her as the little girl who made one of the motels he had stayed at a little more enjoyable and as the girl who had given him his very first kiss.

A moment later, he felt a hand slide onto each of his shoulders. "Come on, Sammy," Dean said softly as he gently began guiding Sam back down the street and away from Lucy's house. "Don't even look back."

The walk back to the motel was made in silence, Sam upset and Dean not quite sure what to say. He had one arm slung around Sam's shoulders, trying to comfort him as best he could. Soon the motel came into view, the red building bright against the trees surrounding it. "It's not fair," Sam muttered, though whether he had meant to say it aloud Dean wasn't sure.

"It's not fair, Sammy," Dean agreed. "She deserved better than that."

Sam just looked up at Dean, helplessness in his eyes. "Why her, Dean? Why? Why did this happen to her? Why did we have to stay here? Why did I have to meet her? Because now I can never see her again and it's just not fair!" He pulled away from Dean and wiped his eyes as the tears started falling fast and furious.

"Sammy--" Dean reached out and tried to pull his brother closer to him, but Sam just dodged out of his grasp.

Sam didn't want to be comforted. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be sad, he wanted to yell and scream and throw a tantrum. Luckily, Dean knew his brother enough to know when to back off and just let him work through the emotions on his own.

Sam dejectedly leaned against the building while Dean turned the key in the motel room door and twisted the knob. As soon as the door was open, Sam stepped inside and flopped down on his bed. John was in the middle of packing up the boys' belongings, and all it took was one look at his younger son to know that the two of them had been successful in taking Lucy home. It was killing him that he had had to hurt Sam in order to put Lucy's spirit to rest, but he hoped that someday, his son would realize that he'd had no other choice.

Sam changed position on the bed, pushing his back against the headboard and pulling his knees close to his chest. He knew he should have been helping his father and brother pack, but he was too upset to do much except think about everything. On some level, he knew that he would have had to leave Lucy behind anyway; that was the reason he didn't play with most of the other kids he met at the motels. It was hard making friends for a few days and then leaving them behind. However, what happened with Lucy was much worse. At least with the other kids, Sam could pretend they'd see each other again someday. But with Lucy, there was no way he was ever going to be able to see her again because she wasn't even alive anymore.

When John was finished packing Sam's backpack, he sat down on the bed in front of Sam's feet and forced his son to meet his eyes. "I'm proud of you, Sammy."

Sam sniffled back a couple of tears. "You are?"

"Yes," John replied. "It takes a strong boy to do what you did for Lucy, and even though it hurt, you did it, no questions asked. I'm very proud of you."

After a moment, Sam gave a small smile, wiping his tears from his face. "Does that mean you can take us to the castle place?"

John chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that deserves a trip to the castle place."

Sam stole a glance at his brother and grinned. "You were right! He's taking us to the castle place anyway!"

Dean just gave his brother a knowing shrug. "Told you."

-----

Dean stepped off the Tilt-a-Whirl, holding a hand over his stomach. When he saw Sam make a beeline for the end of the line to go back on the ride again, Dean just shook his head. "Dude, no way. If you drag me on this one more time, I'm going to throw up all that cotton candy I just ate."

Sam pouted in disappointment. "Well, what about the Scrambler?" he asked, his voice verging on a whine.

Dean wrinkled his nose; his stomach was turning at just the thought of the Scrambler. "Can we do something that doesn't spin?"

Sam frowned, taking a look at the other rides around him. "Well, there's a roller coaster. And bumper cars!"

Even though the roller coaster wasn't all that big or all that high, it did have spirals. Dean sighed and ushered his brother towards the bumper cars, solely because he needed the stability of solid ground until his stomach settled.

Dean, John, and Sam had been at the "castle place", which was in fact named King's Castleland, for a couple of hours already. It was a small theme park with some kiddie rides and a few playhouses that were modeled after fairy tale characters. The various rides and activities were providing Sam with some much-needed distraction.

Since they had been at the park, he had only mentioned Lucy a couple of times. One time he wondered aloud what her favorite playhouse was, and another time he became excited when he found the carousel horse she had described to him as her favorite. Dean had smiled and told him that he should ride on that horse for Lucy, which he did.

"Do you see Dad anywhere?" Sam asked, startling Dean back to reality. "I'm really thirsty."

Dean craned his neck, trying to spot his father in the crowd. When Sam had started complaining of thirst before their last ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl, John had gone off in search of drinks and snacks. After a few seconds, Dean noticed that John was walking back towards the Tilt-a-Whirl. He waved his hands over his head, trying to let him know that they had switched lines.

It wound up not being a problem. Once Sam saw John coming towards them with a couple of sodas and a Sno-Cone, he dashed out of line to meet him halfway. He snatched the Sno-Cone from his father's hand and happily bit into the colored ice as he took his place in line again in front of Dean. "Thanks, Dad!"

"You're welcome," John replied, sharing an amused glance with Dean. He let the moment hang for a second before speaking up again. "I hate to break up the party here, but we've only got another hour or so before we have to get back on the road. Pick a couple more rides and then we have to get going while it's still light out."

Sam pouted for a moment before realizing that the bumper car line was moving. He handed his Sno-Cone back to his father to hold while he was on the ride. Dean took a quick sip of his soda and did the same. The boys along with a bunch of other kids then ran onto the bumper car arena, Sam running to a red car and Dean hurrying to a blue one.

Sam slammed his car into Dean's a couple of times, but then Dean chased him into a corner and proceeded to get him stuck. No matter which way Sam turned the wheel, he couldn't get his car out of the corner. Dean snickered and drove off, slamming his car instead into someone else's. By the time Sam finally got his car out of the corner, the ride was over. As the brothers were getting off the ride, Sam smacked Dean on the side of his arm. "What'd you get me stuck for?"

"I was tired of you running into me!" Dean replied with a mischievous grin.

Sam rolled his eyes and stomped ahead of him. "Just for that, you're going on the Tilt-a-Whirl with me again!"

"Sam, seriously, if we do anything else that spins, I'm going to throw up on your shoes."

Sam wrinkled his nose at the thought of Dean vomiting on his shoes. "Okay, how about the Ferris wheel? We haven't gone on the Ferris wheel yet."

"Yeah, I guess we can do the Ferris wheel." Dean ran up to John, took the soda back from him, and told him where they were headed next. Sam snatched the Sno-Cone back and began hurriedly eating it before it melted any further.

As the Winchesters made their way to the Ferris wheel, Sam hung back a few paces and then grabbed Dean's sleeve to get him to do the same. "I have a question," he whispered.

Dean frowned slightly, wondering why his brother was being secretive. "Okay, squirt, shoot."

Sam hesitated, almost as if he was unsure whether he really wanted to ask his question. Figuring he was now beyond the point of no return, he met his brother's eyes uncertainly. "If Lucy's gone and Mom's gone, are Mom and Lucy in the same place?"

Dean stopped walking, giving his full attention to his little brother. Sam very rarely so much as mentioned their mother, never mind contemplated where she was at the moment. "Why?"

"Because I think they are," Sam said with a small, unsure shrug. "And if they are, I think Mom knows that Lucy wants a mom and I think she's going to watch her until Lucy's mom can be with her. Mom would look after her, right?"

After quickly looking Sam over, he could tell instantly that this was something that his brother needed to believe in, that it was somehow making everything that happened with Lucy easier for him by believing that she was still somehow connected to Sam and that she would be protected. "Yeah," he answered, giving his little brother a smile. "I do think Mom would look after her."

Sam let out a soft breath of relief, smiled, and began hurrying his pace to catch up with their father. Once the Ferris wheel came into view, Sam took off in a full-blown run, leaving both Dean and John behind.

"Sammy! Not so fast!" John called as Sam ran past him. Dean sidled up next to his father and smiled up at him. John rested his hand on Dean's head for a moment, then dropped his hand back down to his side. "This job's been hard on you, too, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, a little," Dean replied with a nonchalant shrug. "But I'm okay."

John nodded and then fixed his attention on his younger son, who had arrived at the Ferris wheel and was impatiently waving his father and brother over to the line. "Is Sammy okay?" he asked, nodding in Sam's direction.

Dean took a moment to answer, mentally going over everything his little brother had been through over the previous few days. Sam had had a six-year-old's version of a whirlwind romance only to find out that his new friend was a ghost who had died eleven years prior. And if that wasn't enough, Sam then had had to be the one to talk the little girl into the light. But Dean knew that his brother was strong, and as long as he believed that Lucy would be taken care of, wherever she was, he'd be fine. He eventually nodded. "Yes," he replied. "Yeah, I think he'll be okay."


End file.
